


A Fleeting Reunion

by moondaisie



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Mother-Son Relationship, Vaguely Canon-compliant, World of Warcraft: Shadowlands Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondaisie/pseuds/moondaisie
Summary: With the help of a sketchy ritual performed by an equally-sketchy friend, Anduin Wrynn is able to do the impossible: meet his mother.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn & Tiffin Wrynn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	A Fleeting Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> saskia: yo so i know you just got out of the maw but, like, do you wanna go back into the shadowlands?  
> anduin: ...  
> sakia: your mom's there  
> anduin: ...  
> anduin: give me five minutes

He paced up and down the map room, up and down, up and down, a glass of wine on the table available to calm him but untouched.

“Expending all your energy before you even step through the portal will not make your escort arrive any faster, my boy,” Genn Greymane said gently.

He forced himself to stop walking, taking a deep breath that moved from his mouth as more of a frustrated sigh than an attempt to steady his nerves. “I know, I just--I can’t make myself sit still. There are… too many possibilities.” Anduin Wrynn turned his head to actually meet the gaze of his most trusted advisor, face drawn.  _ I have no idea what to expect. I haven’t seen this woman since I was a babe; I have no memory of her. What if she doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like her?  _ A million more similar questions raced in circles around his mind, each more worrying than the last.

Nodding slowly his understanding, he continued, “It’s natural to be nervous over such a thing. I would be as well.” He raised his brows imploringly. “But you must trust me when I say that it will be alright.”

The sound of steel-toed footsteps began to echo through the keep before he could answer. He spun on heel just as Saskia Rastout entered. Drake-rider’s helmet tucked under one arm, she held up a glowing grey stone and asked, “Are you ready to begin the ritual?”

Hands clasped behind his back, he took one more steadying breath, then inclined his head. “Yes.”

Saskia felt that the drawing room would provide an adequate place for them to work. Three windows spanned the length of the far wall, letting plenty of moonlight filter through, and furniture could easily be moved out of the way. They set about doing that first, with the help of two of the keep’s staff.

Spymaster Shaw and his right hand goblin, Renzik, arrived during the process. Both rogues were armed to teeth and fully armored. Naturally, Anduin wasn’t setting foot outside of Stormwind Keep, much less to the  _ Shadowlands _ , without the best of the best watching his back. Even though his last (willing) foray into the great wide world alone had gone completely fine, something he had  _ tried _ to tell them and Genn. To which they reminded him that he had only been alone for the portal to Dalaran and the gryphon ride to the Broken Shore, as opposed to any of the truly dangerous parts. Whatever.

With a satisfactory amount of room, she knelt and began to scrape runes with the stone, amber eyes narrowing at the yardstick helping her space out each one in a seven-foot fan in front of her. Every few seconds her thick ginger hair would slip over her shoulder, and she would have to move it back with a grumble.

She took a jar from her pack next and set it to her left, then beckoned Anduin over to her right. “Let me see your momentos.”

He knelt with her. In his hand he held his mother’s engagement and wedding rings. Alongside those was Horace’s Silver Hand insignia. A relic of the dead, meant to tie him to their realm, and a relic of the living, meant to tie him to his. His partner regrettably hadn’t been able to see him off. Business in Westfall was keeping him running about, as he put it, “like a chicken with its head cut off.” But he had sent the ring as a good luck charm, to keep Anduin grounded and remind him that his knight in shining armor was still there in spirit supporting him.

He did as instructed and removed a glove, clutching the leather in his free hand and extending his bare thumb. Saskia next procured a sheathed dagger. The instant she removed it from its leather trappings a shiver went up Anduin’s spine. Something was very, truly wrong with the make of that thing. It put his Light-attuned senses in a state of complete revulsion. His stomach turned, and he pulled the thumb out of Saskia’s grasp, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. “What is that?” he gasped.

“It’s a mixture of saronite and very special holy dirt,” she informed him flatly. Glancing up at his quizzical expression, she added, “You’d think I’d be lying, but I’m not.”

“I still don’t understand how it’s healthy to remain around any amount to saronite--”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” he stammered.

“Hm? Oh, no, I was talking to the dagger.”

Behind him, Renzik said, “You know we’re legally allowed to kill you if anything happens to the king.”

Saskia rolled her eyes. “I’ve made this journey multiple times already. Come on, thumb.”

He winced as she pierced the pad of the digit, going down past first blood. She smeared it onto each ring and the dagger, then turned to the jar. She took what turned out to nine pieces of bone and worked to crumble them in her bare hands to a fine dust. While she worked, Anduin stared, making a small, concerned noise. Some of them were shaped in such a way that he knew they were humanoid. 

“These are Scourge bones,” she explained.

Light bless her for being so patient with him. He certainly didn’t mean to be so swept up in anxiety, but it seemed there was no helping it. “What’s it like? The journey, I mean.”

She shrugged. “Unpleasant--cold, dark, constricting. At least now I know what to expect when I die, I guess.”

The anxiety intensified. He swallowed hard and watched her finish the task.  _ I’m going to see my mother again. She’s not just going to be a painting on the wall… She’ll be flesh and bone, and I’ll get to see her and hear her voice! _

Saskia leaned forward and blew harshly on the bone dust. The runes on the floor glowed an icy blue. She gestured with her chin and said, “Stand in there.”

She repeated the gesture with Shaw and Renzik, dedicating a separate length of the blade to each of their bloods. Finally, she performed the ritual on herself, blowing the final layer of bone dust upon the runes, picking up her pack, and coming to stand with the other three. The engraved stone hovered in the air and the floor began to shake. Anduin braced himself with a hand on Saskia’s shoulder, knees weak and teeth chattering, an unfortunate and embarrassing side effect of his anxiety attacks. The world around him was overwhelmed by the energy of the runes, turning to white, and then to the coldest, bleakest… He couldn’t even describe the color of it, other than to say it was simply… nothing. Not blackness, but an absence of everything. He felt an enormous weight bearing down from every angle upon his body and gasped. 

A painful mistake. The vice grip increased and he could no longer breathe. Images of the Divine Bell flashed across his mind. His eyes bulged for how far they widened, his mouth opened in a desperate but futile attempt to bring in air. His back arched and his head tipped back, throat spasming. He tried to scream but nothing came out.

He saw Saskia floating nearby. Her face was entirely serene despite the similar effects she was no doubt feeling. Moments drug by and nothing happened. Was this another part of the Maw? He saw no Jailor, no tormented souls other than the three in front of him. Was it a hallucination?

Then pinpricks of light began to emerge. Saskia was the first to disappear, her form vanishing with the same glow as the runestone. Renzik followed soon after, then Shaw. The pinpricks grew larger and larger, and suddenly he could feel himself being pulled towards something. The sensation sped up, hurtling him forward until all that remained was a deafening ring in his ears.

Just like that, he was standing again on his feet. The ringing continued and he just  _ knew  _ he was going to black out. Lead-filled hands reached out and one planted on the trunk nearby tree. He stumbled, fell sidelong into it, and slumped down, his vision engulfed in stars. His chest heaved as it took in great lungfuls of air. His body shook fiercely. For the duration of the episode, he screwed his eyes shut against the spinning of his head and the loss of his senses and pressed himself into the bark.

A weight was draped on him, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. As he regained his faculties, he recognized the presence as Saskia, putting a blanket over him. She squeezed his upper arms with just enough pressure to keep him grounded, murmuring, “Easy, just take your time.”

Eventually he leaned away from her, tongue thick and throat convulsing. A clammy sweat broke out over his still trembling body. He kept forcing himself to breathe through the ordeal, an even in/out, and called to the Light. It flowed through him like a cool drink of water, easing the misery. With Saskia’s help, he was able to move until he was leaning back against a granite slab. He twitched from the adrenaline rush even as his eyes begged to close, weakened and exhausted from the ordeal.

Shaw and Renzik hadn’t fared much better. Sheer willpower, it seemed, kept the Spymaster on his feet, while his second in command was flat on his back and gritting his teeth. Again Saskia rolled her eyes and made some snarky comment that forced him to sit down.

“We’ll take a break here and then travel to the meeting place,” she said. “There’s not a  _ huge  _ rush, but try to keep in mind time is different here.”

Anduin used the Light on the other two men to speed their recoveries up. Although his body was telling him to fall asleep now, his mind was fit to burst with a renewed enthusiasm. They had made it to the Shadowlands! The most difficult part was complete. His heart fluttered in anticipation.

“What does she look like?” he wondered, tilting his head to better regard Saskia.

“You’ll find out in less than an hour,” she replied. She flopped down in the grass next to him and added, “That painting’s accurate, though.”

He nodded. There was a part of him that was in disbelief that he was awake and experiencing this. He was truly going to meet his mother, something he had not dared to hope of doing while he was still alive. He was at a loss for words.

Renzik and Shaw at last got to their feet, a little wobbly but otherwise none the worse for wear. The latter gestured for them to continue their journey.

“We’ll hang back for a time once we reach our destination,” the spymaster informed him. “So you can have some privacy.”

“Were you friends with my mother while she was alive?” Anduin inquired.

To everyone’s surprise, Shaw let out a low chuckle. “The first handful of years she was married to your father, there was many a night when she would find her way to SI:7’s headquarters with a bottle of Dalaran red and a lengthy list of things she wished to vent about to myself and Renzik. Over time, yes, I would say that we became friends.”

The anger and disdain his parents had felt towards one another was no secret. His father had spoken of it only a few times in his life, and with a great deal of remorse. Anduin wished the man had been more forgiving with himself. No one could have predicted what later transpired. He also dearly wished that Varian Wrynn had also been one of the souls found. Saskia did all she could in that regard, however, so he never voiced that desire. She knew, though. Everyone knew. It had been written all over his face the day she returned from her first journey into the Shadowlands.

He focused on evening out his breathing and taking in the landscape surrounding their little party. The outskirts of Bastion were absolutely stunning. It reminded him of Westfall, what little he had seen of it, after the rainy season when everything was lush and lively. The blue trees were the biggest distinction. A sea of golden grasses stretched out in every direction, peppered with trees and flowers. In the distance was a family of deer grazing contentedly. The afterlife’s version of a sun shone down with just midmorning brightness, and the sky was the most wonderful shade of blue he had ever seen. It was strange, however, to look up and not see the Blue Mother or White Child. He wondered if there were moons here, or if it was a perpetual daytime, as the Maw had been perpetually dusk.

After a mile or so of walking, a cottage appeared. “Is that where…” he breathed.

Saskia nodded, a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. “It sure is. How do you feel?”

“I’m terrified,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” she replied sympathetically. “It’ll go well, though, I promise. She was dy--” She stopped and cleared her throat.

Despite, or perhaps because of his nerves, Anduin pursed his lips and stifled a laugh. “She was dying to meet me?”

“I also promise that I did  _ not _ mean that as a joke.”

His smile was quick to fall. Now they were not five yards from the cottage. Coming to a halt, he took a deep, tremulous breath. A little plume of smoke was wafting out of the chimney. She was there, waiting for their arrival. His heart began to race and his palms grew clammy.

He was pulled out of his own head by Saskia’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m going ahead to let her know we’re here. Follow when you’re ready,” she told him.

Spymaster Shaw and Renzik waited with him in silence as the rogue disappeared around the side of the house.  _ All things will be well. All nights end, and all storms clear. The only storms that last are those within your own soul. _ He repeated the Prophet Velen’s words like a mantra, breathing to the rhythm he had been taught. In for five, hold, out for five, hold.

When he looked behind him, the heads of SI:7 had vanished, most likely to secure the perimeter. There were many trees for many threats to hide in. Despite knowing that they were a stone’s throw away, he felt exposed, vulnerable, moreso than he had ever been in his entire life.

Then Saskia emerged. Anduin ceased to breathe as a much taller woman followed. She had hair like sunlight and bright blue eyes and a scar near her hairline and the kindest, loveliest smile. She was his mother, and she was the most incredible person he had ever seen.

She gasped, a hand flying up to her chest and the other one clutching her forearm, her eyes going wide as saucers. Then she broke out into a hopeful grin. “Anduin?” she asked tentatively.

His lower lip quivered as he gaped at her. For a moment, they simply stood there. The dam burst, and tears began to fall. They rushed towards one another and embraced. Tiffin Wrynn placed kisses on his cheek and temple, rocking back and forth and laughing through her sobs. Light, she had the most wonderful laugh.

After a moment, she held him out at arm’s length. “You’ve grown a bit,” she said.

Anduin wiped the tears from his eyes and chuckled along with her. “Just a little.”

“I can’t believe I get to see you again,” she breathed, cupping his cheek with one hand. “My boy.”

He leaned into the touch, face crumpling again. “I missed you so much.”

“I did, too, dear. But we have each other again. At least--at least for a little while.”

He didn’t want for a second to think about having to leave yet. So instead he hugged her again. “So much has happened since you’ve been gone, so much I want to tell you. I-I don’t even know where to start.”

Tiffin gestured back to the cottage’s threshold, where Saskia was sitting engrossed with a book. “Your friend was nice enough to give me a crash course in current events.” Her face fell. “Including what happened to Varian.”

A tightness gripped his chest. “Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him yet, but I also haven’t had a chance to look yet. It’s very possible he isn’t even in Bastion. I’ve heard Maldraxxus is where many of those more suited to a life of battle end up. Given the timeline of events, I don’t believe he’s in…” Her voice trailed off.

Neither of them wanted to consider the possibility that Varian was in the Maw. From what Anduin had heard of Maldraxxus, however, even a perpetual battlefield sounded better than the Maw. Though, from his personal experience, everything was.  _ No, let’s not dwell on that now _ .

Tiffin sighed through her nose. After a moment, she looked into the canopy of a tree to her right, raised her voice and with a smirk said, “It’s either Shaw or Renzik up there, so you may as well come down and say hello.”

Both rogues descended from the foliage. “How’d you figure it was us?” Renzik asked.

“Oh, please, you’d never trust anyone else with an assignment like this,” she retorted, but her tone was good-natured.

“It is good to see you again, Tiffin,” Shaw said. “You’ve been sorely missed.”

“I’m sure my ability to raid the wine cellar has been, as well.”

“And your court gossip,” he added, inclining his head.

“Someday I’m sure we’ll be able to sit down and get properly drunk and reminisce about it all.”

“We sure will,” Renzik replied wistfully.

“Until then, we will remain at our posts, ensuring that, for once, your son and trouble do not mingle.” Shaw bowed, Renzik echoing the gesture, and the two returned to the shadows.

“Let’s go to the garden and talk,” Tiffin suggested.

There was a little wooden table with four chairs settled adjacent to a carefully-tended series of flowerbeds, all arranged in a circle around a little pond with several bright fish swimming inside. Birds sang from the trees and flitted about catching softly buzzing insects. Every plant was full and vibrant and fresh-smelling. A pair of gardening gloves and a little trowel rested atop a folded blanket near one of the beds, where a pink snapdragon had been settled into its new home and two more awaited their turn.

“It’s beautiful,” Anduin gasped. “It looks like the one we used to have in Stormwind Keep.”

She poured them both tea and sat next to him, and the scent of lavender and chamomile permeated the air around them. “Used to?”

He shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure why it was taken out. Father was never one for the more typically domestic things in life, but he loved that garden.”

Her grip tightened on her cup. “I bet it was the bitch Katrana,” she growled.

Anduin started at the sudden display of anger.

“I was told she tried to blame the brickbat that struck me for my death,” she continued, then shook her head. “It’s not true; it was her. I don’t know what she did exactly, what magic she used, but she was the one who killed me, not one of the Stonemasons.”

“She wanted to use Father as a puppet through which she could control the throne,” he agreed sourly.

She nodded. “She knew that I knew that. The instant she set foot in the keep myself and several of SI:7 saw right through the ruse she put up. I trailed her for months and knew that she was secretly a dragon, and that she was responsible for what later formed into the Defias Brotherhood. The same day I was to present my case against her in court, the revolt began.” She sighed through her nose. “You know the rest.”

“Yes,” he murmured, staring into his tea. When he looked back up at her, it was with sympathy. “It wasn’t your fault, Mother. No one ever thought it was, myself included.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’re a good man, Anduin. You’ve been through hell, and I’ll always wish like hell that I could’ve been there for you.”

“But enough about me.” She elbowed him gently. “Tell me about your life.”

“Wh-what do you want to know?”

Her eyes glittered with excitement. “ _ Everything _ .”

“I don’t even think  _ I _ remember everything that’s happened in my life,” he laughed.  _ Not to mention all of the things I worked hard to forget. _

“Everything you can remember, then. And don’t worry about omitting anything you think is going to make me feel bad,” she insisted.

“Well…” How did one possibly summarize their life story? He almost wished he had brought his journals with him, just to have something to reference so he could be sure he was getting it all right. “Accuracy matters” was a phrase that had been drilled into him since he was old enough to understand what each individual word meant.

Talking about those closest to him was a good enough way to start, he supposed. “Wyll was alive for almost all of my life. He was one of the few people I knew that I could go to for help during Onyxia’s reign. She had ensorcelled Father, manipulating him into running the kingdom into the ground while grief had made him vulnerable. It was a… trying… time, but I managed.”

He noticed the grip on her cup unconsciously tighten again. “Wyll was the one who taught me how to read. Once that happened, I practically lived in the library,” he joked.

She chuckled lightly. “I’m glad I was able to pass on the bookworm trait to you,” she remarked.

His heart swelled. He had always been told of his mother’s love of literature, but to hear it from her made the connection all the more tangible. He wondered how many of the books he had plucked off the shelves had been read by her. Some he was certain had been. “I saw your annotations in Lothar’s  _ Treatise _ !” he said excitedly.

Her laugh was louder this time. “Oh, the librarians  _ hated  _ me for writing in the margins! I think that was one of the last ones I got away with.”

“They’re still there, Lyle and Connie, though with many more grey hairs than twenty years ago.”

“Light, it has been a long time, hasn’t it? Though from what I’ve been told about the world since I’ve been gone, it seems like it should have been decades more.” She sipped at her tea, then asked, “Wyll has passed away, then?”

He nodded, growing solemn. “He and Elsie are presumably both in the Maw…”

She covered his hand with hers. “We’ll get them out of there, I know it. There are those of us in the Shadowlands who are working to stop the Jailer’s hoarding of souls. Combined with your people, he doesn’t stand a chance.” Determination flashed in her eyes at those last words.

“Yes,” he breathed. After a moment, he added, “I had gotten lost on Pandaria for several months when I was fourteen. When I finally returned to Stormwind, Wyll said that I was shaping up to be the death of him and Father.”

“Pandaria! I had always hoped it was more than a legend. Tell me more.” She leaned in intently.

“Funny enough, the Alliance and Horde discovered it purely by accident. I had been travelling with Admiral Taylor on a diplomatic mission to Ratchet when, in the midst of a storm, we were attacked by a Horde ship…”

**Author's Note:**

> when he returns to stormwind he cries for like an hour because he had to say goodbye to his mom again.  
> *it should be noted that the google doc i wrote this in is titled "to trick people into reading ttrb" and i wrote most of this while i was high which is legal where i live and if you're a cop you have to tell me.


End file.
